Comings and Goings

Ahh, back to the Wonderland that is Nouakchott.  Electricity, running water, ice cream, silverware... but, as my region mates in Rosso like to remind me, these are luxuries that really have no place in the life of a Peace Corps volunteer.

I'll try not to enjoy them too much over the next few days.

It has been a little strange in our corner of the sandbox.  Due to a mysterious informant complaining about the presence of village volunteers in the regional capital, the higher ups at Peace Corps decided to close the house in Rosso where village volunteers came in to check the mail, use the internet, make phone calls, and take showers.  Bummer.  An even bigger bummer is the drama of eighth-grade proportions that has ensued between the Rosso volunteers, essentially inaffected and happy about the change, and the deprived villagers who now have no access to those simple things the others still get every day.  It has not been one of our prouder moments, I'll say that.  In the end it seems that for the moment the best option is to avoid Rosso as much as possible.  Mom doesn't need to cry her eyes out yet, though, since while I am still working on the stove project I will have to be in Rosso to work.  Lodging is temporarily solved for the next two months, after that, who knows.  But the important fact remains the same, all my packages and letters still come to the same address.  It will just be up to our regional coordinator to put them on the car to my village every week or so since I won't be coming in very often.  I will appreciate those words from the real world all the more.

So aside from the unexpected return to middle school, I had a flashback to college when Brian Littman-Smith, a fellow Sidizen, came to visit.  Most people would fly to Mauritania from Europe.  Brian took a boat, a car, and a train, as in he crossed the desert.  Rice people: what can I say, we're different.  Far from having a restful visit, we put Brian to work hauling stoves on project animations in two villages.  Then he got to come back to the Rosso house, may she rest in peace, and listen to us argue and whine and then help us move all the furniture out.  "I think this is a good place for you," he said.  "Why?"  I asked.  "Because you like to complain, and there is plenty of material for that here."  Ouch, but not entirely untrue.  Will make valient efforts to whine less in future.

Anyway, after far too much time spent lifting things we finally got out of Rosso and headed to the village.  Of course, we missed the car to Jidrel Mohghuen and had to take the pick up to Tekane, get out at the crossroads, and walk for 45 minutes.  Not a problem for me, but seeing as Brian was carrying all his possessions on his back, he was pretty tired by the time we reached home.  But, as promised, there was nothing we had to do and nowhere we had to be the whole next day except for heading out to eat lunch with my host family.  For a vegetarian, Brian did admirably well.

We went out into the forest in the late afternoon because Brian wanted to see the monkeys I speak so much of, and the lizards.  After walking until near dark, not a single one was spotted; my animal friends had chosen the path of lameness.  Spiteful little things that they are, I have seen monkeys nearly every day since Brian left. 

Work in the village goes as always.  The hot season has begun in earnest in the Trarza, bringing with it a hot and dusty wind off the desert.  But last week I stepped outside and was amazed at how good the air smelled, it smelled really, really good.  Nicole later filled me in, it was probably because the rice fields, which have been flooded using the water pump these past weeks, have sprouted and I am smelling the long forgotten scent of grass.  It smelled like spring whatever it was.  I went out to work with the women's cooperative, I cut grass around the banana trees, planted a mint patch, and planted eggplant seedlings.  The last job was particularly fun because I got to squish around in the flooded field barefoot shoving little sprouts in the ground.  The women were particularly amused.

This meant, of course, that I actually had to take a bath that day, highly unusual.  But it wasn't too painful.  A part of this experience is that I now once again have the ability to empathize with 6 year olds everywhere. Maybe I'm regressing.  Oh dear, by the time I get home I'll be spitting out peas and carrots.

Happy Easter to all.  If I can find food coloring somewhere in this city I fulyl intend to dye eggs.

 

love

amy